MANT  GODS 


CALE    YOUNG    RICE 


MANY  GODS 


OTHER    BOOKS    BY 

CALE  YOUNG  RICE 

Nirvana  Days 

Yolanda  of  Cyprus 

Plays  and  Lyrics 

A  Night  in  Avignon 

Charles  di  Tocca 

David 


MANY    GODS 


BY 


GALE    YOUNG    RICE 


NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &•  COMPANY 
MCMX 


ALL   RIGHTS  RESERVED,   INCLUDING  THAT   OF  TRANSLATION 
INTO  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES,  INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 

COPYRIGHT,    IQIO,  BY  DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
PUBLISHED,  FEBRUARY,   IQIO 


TO 

FINIS    KING   FARR 

AN  OLD 
AND  DEAR  COMRADE 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

"ALL'S  WELL" 3 

THE  PROSELYTE  RECANTS       .....  6 

LOVE  IN  JAPAN      .                  .         .         .         .         .  10 

MAPLE  LEAVES  ON  MIYAJIMA          .        .        .        .  13 

TYPHOON       .                 .        .                 .        .        .  15 

PENANG        "...                               ...  17 

WHEN  THE  WIND  is  Low 20 

THE  PAGODA  SLAVE      '.         .         .         .         .         .  22 

THE  SHIPS  OF  THE  SEA  .         .         .         .         .         .  25 

KlNCHINJUNGA       „.  .             I    .        .          '.             .            .             .  26 

THE  BARREN  WOMAN     .         .         .                  .  29 

BY  THE  TAJ  MAHAL       .• 32 

LOVE'S  CYNIC        .                          .        .        .        .  35 

IN  A  TROPICAL  GARDEN  .        .         .         .     -  .         .  42 

THE  WIND'S  WORD       ..       ...        .                *.         .  46 

THE  SHRINE  OF  SHRINES       • . "       .         .         .         .  47 

FROM  A  FELUCCA    .       •.       •.       :.         .         .         .  48 

THE  EGYPTIAN  WAKES  .     ':.        .        .        .        .  49 

THE  IMAM'S  PARABLE     .       '.       '.        .        .        .  50 

SONGS  OF  A  SEA-FARER   .         .-"...        .        ..  52 

A  SONG  OF°THE  SECTS     .      '" .  •   -,%      ".         .         .  54 

THE  CITY      .        .^ .    ...        .        ...        .  57 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

VIA  AMOROSA 58 

DUSK  AT  HIROSHIMA 60 

THE  WANDERER 61 

IN  A  SHINTO  TEMPLE  GARDEN         ....  64 

FAR  FUJIYAMA 65 

ON  MIYAJIMA  MOUNTAIN      . .                 .         .         .  66 

OLD  AGE .        .  68 

ON  THE  YANG-TSE-KIANG 69 

THE  SEA-ARMIES     .......  71 

THE  CHRISTIAN  IN  EXILE       .        .        .        .        .  73 

THE  PARSEE  WOMAN 75 

SHAH  JEHAN  TO  MUMTAZ  MAHAL    .        '.         .         .  77 

PRINCESS  JEHANARA       ......  79 

A  ClNGHALESE  LOVE  LAMENT 80 

ON  THE  ARABIAN  GULF  .         .         .         .         .         .  83 

THE  RAMESSID 84 

IMMORTAL  FOES      .......  85 

THE  CONSCRIPT     .         .        .        .        .        .        .  87 

NAVIS  IGNOTA         .         .                •  .         .         .         .  89 

THE  CROSS  OF  THE  SEPULCHRE       .        .        .        .  91 

THE  NUN .  92 

ALPINE  CHANT       .         .         .         .         .         .         .  94 

THE  MAN  OF  MIGHT    . »        .        -.         .         .        ,  96 

IN  TIME  OF  AWE   .         .        .        .        .        .        <  97 

SUNRISE  IN  UTAH  ...,,*.  99 
CONSOLATION.        4        .        .        •        •        •        .100 

WAVES  .         .        .        .        .        .        ...  102 

Vis  ULTIMA .         .  104 

MEREDITH  106 


MANY  GODS 


"ALL'S  WELL" 


The  illimitable  leaping  of  the  sea, 
The  mouthing  of  his  madness  to  the  moon, 
The  seething  of  his  endless  sorcery, 
His  prophecy  no  power  can  attune, 
Swept  over  me  as,  on  the  sounding  prow 
Of  a  great  ship  that  steered  into  the  stars, 
I  stood  and  felt  the  awe  upon  my  brow 
Of  death  and  destiny  and  all  that  mars. 

II 

The  wind  that  blew  from  Cassiopeia  cast 
Wanly  upon  my  ear  a  rune  that  rung; 
The  sailor  in  his  eyrie  on  the  mast 
Sang  an  "All's  well,'*  that  to  the  spirit  clung 


MANY  GODS 

Like  a  lost  voice  from  some  aerial  realm 
Where  ships  sail  on  forever  to  no  shore, 
Where  Time  gives  Immortality  the  helm, 
And  fades  like  a  far  phantom  from  life's  door. 

in 

"And  is  all  well,  O  Thou  Unweariable 
Launcher  of  worlds  upon  bewildered  space," 
Rose  in  me,  "All?  or  did  thy  hand  grow  dull 
Building  this  world  that  bears  a  piteous  race? 
O  was  it  launched  too  soon  or  launched  too  late  ? 
Or  can  it  be  a  derelict  that  drifts 
Beyond  thy  ken  toward  some  reef  of  Fate 
On  which  Oblivion's  sand  forever  shifts?" 

IV 

The  sea  grew  softer  as  I  questioned  —  calm 
With  mystery  that  like  an  answer  moved, 
And  from  infinity  there  fell  a  balm, 
The  old  peace  that  God  is,  tho  all  unproved. 


MANY  GODS  5 

The  old  faith  that  tho  gulfs  sidereal  stun 

The  soul,  and  knowledge  drown  within  their  deep, 

There  is  no  world  that  wanders,  no  not  one 

Of  all  the  millions,  that  He  does  not  keep. 


THE  PROSELYTE  RECANTS 
(In  Japan) 

Where  the  fair  golden  idols 

Sit  in  darkness  and  in  silence 
While  the  temple  drum  beats  solemnly  and  slow; 

Where  the  tall  cryptomerias 

Sway  in  worship  round  about 
And  the  rain  that  is  falling  whispers  low; 

I  can  hear  strange  voices 

Of  the  dead  and  forgotten, 
On  the  dimly  rising  incense  I  can  see 

The  lives  I  have  lived, 

And  my  lives  unbegotten, 
Namu  Amida  Butsu  pity  me! 


MANY  GODS  7 

I  was  born  this  karma 

Of  a  mother  in  Chuzenji, 
Where  Nantai-zan  looks  down  into  the  lake; 

Where  the  white-thronged  pilgrims 

Climb  to  altars  in  the  clouds 
And  behold  the  holy  eastern  dawn  awake. 

It  was  there  I  wandered 

Till  a  priest  of  the  Christians 
With  the  crucifix  he  wore  compelled  my  gaze. 

In  grief  I  had  grown, 

So  upon  its  grief  I  pondered. 
Namu  Amida  Butsu,  keep  my  daysl 

It  was  wrong,  he  told  me, 

To  pray  Jiso  for  my  children, 
And  Binzuru  for  healing  of  my  ills. 

And  our  gods  so  many 

Were  conceived,  he  said,  in  sin, 
From  Lord  Shaka  to  the  least  upon  the  hills. 


MANY  GODS 

In  despair  I  listened 

For  my  heart  beat  hopeless, 
Not  a  temple  of  my  land  had  helped  me  live. 

But  alas  that  day 

When  I  let  my  soul  be  christened! 
Namu  Amida  Butsu,  O  forgive! 


For  the  Christ  they  gave  me 

As  the  only  Law  and  Lotus, 
As  the  only  way  to  Light  that  will  not  wane, 

May  perchance  have  power 

For  the  people  of  the  West, 
But  to  me  he  seemed  the  servitor  of  pain. 

For  in  pain  he  perished 

As  one  born  to  passion: 
In  some  other  life  no  doubt  his  sin  was  great, 

Tho  they  told  me  no, 

Those  who  followed  him  and  cherished. 
Namu  Amida  Butsu,  such  is  fate. 


MANY  GODS  < 

So  again  to  idols 

Of  the  Buddha  who  is  boundless, 
While  the  temple  drum  is  beating  thro  the  rain, 

I  have  turned  from  treason 

Into  Meditation's  truth, 
From  the  strife  the  Western  god  regards  as  gain. 

And  if  now  I'm  dying 

As  the  voices  tell  me, 
To  the  lives  that  I  must  live  I'll  meekly  go; 

Till  my  long  grief  ends 

In  Nirvana,  and  my  sighing. 
Namu  Amida  Butsu,  be  it  so! 


LOVE  IN  JAPAN 


Dragon-fly  lighting 
On  the  temple-bell, 
Whose  soul  do  you  bear 
On  the  Day  of  the  Dead? 
The  soul  of  my  lover? 
Ah  me,  the  plighting 
Between  two  hearts 
That  were  never  wed! 


Dragon-fly,  quickly, 
The  priest  is  coming! 
Oh,  the  boom 
Of  the  bitter  bell! 

10 


MANY  GODS 

Now  you  are  gone 

And  my  tears  fall  thickly. 

How  of  Heaven 

Do  the  gods  make  Hell! 


The  semi  is  silent 
(Autumn  rains!) 

The  wind-bells  tinkle 
(How  chill  it  is!)       . 

The  quick  lights  come 

On  the  shoji-panes. 

Come,  O  Baku, 

Eater  of  dreams! 

The  maple  darkens 

(Pale  grow  I!) 
The  near  night  shivers 

(The  temple  fades.) 


12  MANY   GODS 

Haunting  love 
Will  not  cease  to  cry! 
Come,  O  Baku, 
Eater  of  dreams! 

The  wild  mists  gather 

(Ah,  my  tears!) 
The  pane-lights  vanish 

(For  some  there  is  rest.) 
But  for  me  — 
The  remembered  years! 
Come,  O  Baku, 
Eater  of  dreams! 


MAPLE  LEAVES  ON  MIYAJIMA 

The  summer  has  come, 

The  summer  has  gone, 

And  the  maple  leaves  lift  fairy  hands 

That  ripple  upon  the  winds  of  dawn 

Where  the  dim  pagoda  stands. 

They  ripple  and  beckon  yearningly 

To  their  sister  fairies  over  the  sea, 

But  help  comes  not, 

So  they  fall  and  flee 

From  Autumn  over  the  sands. 

And  down  the  mountain, 
And  into  the  tide, 

Some  are  blown  where  the  sampans  glide, 
And  some  are  strewn  by  the  temple's  side, 
13 


14  MANY  GODS 

And  some  by  the  torii. 

But  Autumn  ever 

Pursues  them  till, 

As  ever  before, 

She  has  her  will,  1 

And  leaves  them  desolate,  dead  and  still, 

Ravished  afar  and  wide; 

Leaves  them  desolate;  crying  shrill, 

"No  beauty  shall  abide!" 


TYPHOON 

(At  Hong-kong) 

I  was  weary  and  slept  on  the  Peak ; 

The  air  clung  close  like  a  shroud, 
And  ever  the  blue-fly's  buzz  in  my  ear 

Hung  haunting  and  hot  and  loud; 
I  awoke  and  the  sky  was  dun 

With  awe  and  a  dread  that  soon 
Went  shuddering  thro  my  heart,  for  I  knew 

That  it  meant  typhoon!  typhoon! 

In  the  harbour  below,  far  down, 

The  junks  like  fowl  in  a  flock 
Were  tossing  in  wingless  terror,  or  fled 

Fluttering  in  from  the  shock. 
The  city,  a  breathless  bend 

Of  roofs,  by  the  water  strewn, 
15 


16  MANY  GODS 

Lay  silent  and  waiting,  yet  there  was  none 
Within  it  but  said  typhoon! 

Then  it  came,  like  a  million  winds 

Gone  mad  immeasurably, 
A  torrid  and  tortuous  tempest  stung 

By  rape  of  the  fair  South  Sea. 
And  it  swept  like  a  scud  escaped 

From  craters  of  sun  or  moon, 
And  struck  as  no  power  of  Heaven  could, 

Or  of  Hell  —  typhoon!  typhoon! 

And  the  junks  were  smitten  and  torn, 

The  drowning  struggled  and  cried, 
Or,  dashed  on  the  granite  walls  of  the  sea, 

In  succourless  hundreds  died. 
Till  I  shut  the  sight  from  my  eyes 

And  prayed  for  my  soul  to  swoon: 
If  ever  I  see  God's  face,  let  it 

Be  guiltless  of  that  typhoon! 


PENANG 

I  want  to  go  back  to  Singapore 

And  ship  along  the  Straits, 
To  a  bungalow  I  know  beside  Penang; 
Where  cocoanut  palms  along  the  shore 

Are  waving,  and  the  gates 
Of  Peace  shut  Sorrow  out  forevermore. 
I  want  to  go  back  and  hear  the  surf 

Come  beating  in  at  night, 
Like  the  washing  of  eternity  over  the  dead. 
I  want  to  see  dawn  fare  up  and  day 

Go  down  in  golden  light; 
I  want  to  go  back  to  Penang !     I  want  to  go  back ! 

j 

I  want  to  go  back  to  Singapore 
And  up  along  the  Straits 
17 


i8  MANY   GODS 

To  the  bungalow  that  waits  me  by  the  tide. 
Where  the  Tamil  and  Malay  tell  their  lore 

At  evening  —  and  the  fates 
Have  set  no  soothless  canker  at  life's  core. 
I  want  to  go  back  and  mend  my  heart 

Beneath  the  tropic  moon, 
While  the  tamarind-tree  is  whispering  thoughts 

of  sleep. 
I  want  to  believe  that  Earth  again 

With  Heaven  is  in  tune. 
I  want  to  go  back  to  Penang!     I  want  to  go  back! 


I  want  to  go  back  to  Singapore 

And  ship  along  the  Straits 
To  the  bungalow  I  left  upon  the  strand. 

Where  the  foam  of  the  world  grows  faint  before 

It  enters,  and  abates 

In  meaning  as  I  hear  the  palm-wind  pour. 
I  want  to  go  back  and  end  my  days 
Some  evening  when  the  Cross 


MANY  GODS  19 

On  the  southern  sky  hangs  heavily  far  and  sad. 
I  want  to  remember  when  I  die 
That  life  elsewhere  was  loss. 
I  want  to  go  back  to  Penang!    I  want  to  go  back! 


WHEN  THE  WIND  IS  LOW 
(To  A.  H.  R.) 

When  the  wind  is  low,  and  the  sea  is  soft, 

And  the  far  heat-lightning  plays 
On  the  rim  of  the  West  where  dark  clouds  nest 

On  a  darker  bank  of  haze; 
When  I  lean  o'er  the  rail  with  you  that  I  love 

And  gaze  to  my  heart's  content; 
I  know  that  the  heavens  are  there  above  — 

But  you  are  my  firmament. 

When  the  phosphor-stars  are  thrown  from  the  bow 
And  the  watch  climbs  up  the  shroud; 

When  the  dim  mast  dips  as  the  vessel  slips 
Thro  the  foam  that  seethes  aloud; 

20 


MANY   GODS  21 

I  know  that  the  years  of  our  life  are  few, 

And  fain  as  a  bird  to  flee, 
That  time  is  as  brief  as  a  drop  of  dew  — 

But  you  are  Eternity. 


THE  PAGODA  SLAVE 

(At  Shwe  Dagohn,  in  old  Rangoon) 

All  night  long  the  pagoda  slave 
Hears  the  wind-bells  high  in  the  air 
Tinkle  with  low  sweet  tongue  and  grave 

In  praise  of  Lord  Gautama. 
All  night  long  where  the  lone  spire  sends 
Its  golden  height  to  the  starry  light 

He  hears  their  tune 

And  watches  the  moon 
And  fears  he  shall  never  reach  Nirvana. 

Round  and  round  by  a  hundred  shrines 
Glittering  at  the  great  Shwe's  base 
Falls  the  sound  of  his  feet  mid  lines 
Droned  from  the  sacred  Wisdom. 


MANY  GODS  23 

Round  and  round  where  the  idols  gaze 
So  pitiless  on  his  pained  distress 

He  passes  on, 

Pale-eyed  and  wan  — 
A  pariah  like  the  dogs  behind  him. 

Oh,  what  sin  in  a  life  begot 
Thousands  of  lives  ago  did  he  sin 
That  he  is  now  by  all  forgot, 

Even   by  Lord   Gautama? 
Oh,  what  sin,  that  the  lowest  shun 
His  very  name  as  a  thing  of  shame  — 

A  sound  to  taint 

The  winds'  that  faint 
From  the  high  bells  that  hear  it  uttered! 

Midnight  comes  and  the  hours  of  morn, 
Tapers  die  and  the  flowers  all 
From  the  most  feted  altars:  lorn 
And  desolate  is  their  odour. 


24  MANY  GODS 

Midnight  goes,  but  he  watches  still 
By  each  cold  spire  the  moon  sets  fire, 

By  every  palm 

Whose  silvery  calm 
Pillar  and  jewelled  porch  pray  under. 

Is  it  dawn  that  is  breaking?    .     .    No, 
Only  a  star  that  falls  in  the  sea, 
Only  a  wind-bell's  louder  flow 

Of  praise  to  Lord  Gautama. 
Faithless  dawn!  with  illusive  feet 
It  comes  too  late  to  ease  his  fate. 

He  sinks  asleep 

A  helpless  heap, 
Tho  for  it  he  may  never  reach  Nirvana. 


THE  SHIPS  OF  THE  SEA 

Into  port  when  the  sun  was  setting 
Rode  the  ship  that  bore  my  love, 

Over  the  breakers  wildly  fretting, 
Under  the  skies  that  shone  above. 

Down  to  the  beach  I  ran  to  meet  him; 

He  would  come  as  he  had  said: 
And  he  came  —  in  a  sailor's  coffin, 
Dead! 

O  the  ships  of  the  sea!  the  women 
They  from  all  hope  but  Heaven  part! 

The  tide  has  nothing  now  to  tell  me, 
The  breakers  only  break  my  heart! 


KINCHINJUNGA 

(Which  is  the  next  highest  of  mountains) 
I 

O  white  Priest  of  Eternity,  around 
Whose  lofty  summit  veiling  clouds  arise 
Of  the  earth's  immemorial  sacrifice 
To  Brahma  in  whose  breath  all  lives  and  dies; 
O  Hierarch  enrobed  in  timeless  snows, 
First-born  of  Asia  whose  maternal  throes 
Seem  changed  now  to  a  million  human  woes, 
Holy  thou  art  and  still!     Be  so,  nor  sound 
One  sigh  of  all  the  mystery  in  thee  found. 

n 

For  in  this  world  too  much  is  overclear, 
Immortal  Ministrant  to  many  lands, 

From  whose  ice-altars  flow  to  fainting  sands 
26 


MANY   GODS  27 

Rivers  that  each  libation  poured  expands. 
Too  much  is  known,  O  Ganges-giving  sire; 
Thy  people  fathom  life  and  find  it  dire, 
Thy  people  fathom  death,  and,  in  it,  fire 
To  live  again,  tho  in  Illusion's  sphere, 
Behold  concealed  as  Grief  is  in  a  tear. 

in 

Wherefore  continue,  still  enshrined,  thy  rites, 
Tho  dark  Thibet,  that  dread  ascetic,  falls 
In  strange  austerity,  whose  trance  appals, 
Before  thee,  and  a  suppliant  on  thee  calls. 
Continue  still  thy  silence  high  and  sure, 
That  something  beyond  fleeting  may  endure  — 
Something  that  shall  forevermore  allure 
Imagination  on  to  mystic  flights 
Wherein  alone  no  wing  of  Evil  lights. 

IV 

Yea,  wrap  thy  awful  gulfs  and  acolytes 

Of  lifted  granite  round  with  reachless  snows. 


28  MANY  GODS 

Stand  for  Eternity  while  pilgrim  rows 
Of  all  the  nations  envy  thy  repose. 
Ensheath  thy  swart  sublimities,  unsealed. 
Be  that  alone  on  earth  which  has  not  failed. 
Be  that  which  never  yet  has  yearned  or  ailed, 
But  since  primeval  Power  upreared  thy  heights 
Has  stood  above  all  deaths  and  all  delights. 


And  tho  thy  loftier  Brother  shall  be  King, 

High-priest  be  thou  to  Brahma  unrevealed, 

While  thy  white  sanctity  forever  sealed 

In  icy  silence  leaves  desire  congealed. 

In  ghostly  ministrations  to  the  sun, 

And  to  the  mendicant  stars  and  the  moon-nun, 

Be  holy  still,  till  East  to  West  has  run, 

And  till  no  sacrificial  suffering 

On  any  shrine  is  left  to  tell  life's  sting. 


THE  BARREN  WOMAN 

(Benares) 

At  the  burning-ghat,   O  Kali, 

Mother  divine  and  dread, 
See,  I  am  waiting  with  open  lips 

Over  the  newly  dead. 
I  am  childless  and  barren;  pity 

And  let  me  catch  the  soul 
Of  him  who  here  on  the  kindled  bier 

Pays  to  Existence  toll. 

See,  by  his  guileless  body 
I  cook  the  bread  and  eat. 

Give  me  the  soul  he  does  not  need 
Now,  for  conception  sweet. 

Hear,  or  my  lord  and  husband 

Shall  send  me  from  his  door 
29 


30  MANY   GODS 

And  take  to  his  side  a  fairer  bride 
Whose  breast  shall  be  less  poor. 

Oft  I  have  sought  thy  temples, 

By  Ganges  now  I  seek, 
Where  ashes  of  all  the  dead  are  strewn, 

And  is  my  prayer  not  meek? 
The  ghats  and  the  shrines  and  the  people 

That  bathe  in  the  holy  Stream 
Have  heard  my  cry,  O  goddess  high, 

Shall  I  not  have  my  dream? 

The  women  of  Oudh  and  Jaipur 

Look  on  my  face  with  scorn. 
Children  about  their  garments  cling, 

To  me  shall  none  be  born? 
The  death-fires   quiver  faster, 

O  hasten,  goddess,  a  sign, 
That  from  this  doom  into  my  womb 

Thy  pledge  has  passed,  divine. 


MANY  GODS  31 

Woe!  there  is  naught  but  ashes, 

Now,  and  the  weepers  go. 
Lone  on  the  ghat  they  leave  me,  lone, 

With  but  the  River's  flow. 
Kali,  I  ask  not  jewels 

Nor  justice,  beauty  nor  shrift, 
But  for  the  lowest  woman's  right, 

A  child  —  tho  I  die  of  the  gift! 


BY  THE  TAJ  MAHAL 

Under  the  Indian  stars, 
Mumtaz  Mahal,  I  am  sitting, 
Watching  them  wind  their  silent  way 
Over  your  wistful  Tomb; 
Watching  the  crescent  prow 
Of  the  moon  among  them  flitting, 
Fair  as  the  shallop  that  bore  your  soul 
To  Paradise's  Room. 

Under  the  Indian  stars, 
With  palm  and  peepul  about  me, 
With  dome  and  kiosk  and  minaret 
Mounting  against  the  sky, 
I  seem  to  see  your  face 

In  all  the  fairness  without  me; 
32 


MANY   GODS  33 

In  all  the  sadness  that  fills  my  heart 
To  hear  your  lover's  cry. 


Under  the  Indian  stars 
I  look  for  your  Jasmine  Tower, 
Along  the  River  whose  barren  bed 
Lies  gray  beneath  the  moon. 
And  thro  its  magic  doors 
You  seem  like  a  spirit  flower, 
Wandering  back  from  Allah's  bourne 
To  seek  for  some  lost  boon. 


Under  the  Indian  stars 

I  see  you  softly  moving, 

Among  your  jewel-lit  maidens  there, 

A  sweet  and  ghostly  queen. 

And  the  scent  of  attar  flung 

In  your  marble  font  seems  proving 

That  passion  never  can  die  from  love, 

If  truly  love  has  been. 


34  MANY  GODS 

Under  the  Indian  stars 

He  comes,  "  the  Shadow  of  Allah," 

Jehan,  the  lord  of  Magnificence, 

The  liege  who  holds  your  heart. 

The  silver  doors  swing  back 

And  alone  with  him  you  hallow 

The  amorous  night — whose  moon  has  made 

Such  visions  in  me  start. 

Under  the  Indian  stars  — 
But  the  end  of  all  is  moaning! 
I  hear  his  dying  breath  that  from 
Your  Tomb  shall  never  die. 
For  every  jasper  flower 
He  set  in  its  dream  seems  loaning 
To  Beauty  a  grief,  Mumtaz  Mahal, 
And  unto  Fate  a  sigh. 


LOVE'S  CYNIC 

i 

O  you  poets,  ever  pretending 

Love  is  immortal,  pipe  the  truth! 
Empty  your  books  of  lies,  the  ending 

Of  no  passion  can  be  —  Youth. 
"Heaven,"  you  breathe,  "will  join  the  broken?" 

Come,  was  the  Infinite  e'er  wed, 
That  He  must  evermore  be  thinking 

Of  your  wedding  bed? 

II 

Pipe  the  truth!  tho  it  clip  the  glamour 
Out  of  your  rhymes  and  rip  your  dream. 

Do  you  believe  words  can  enamour 
Death  and  dry  up  Lethe's  stream? 
35 


36  MANY  GODS 

Death  Pit  is  but  a  Sponge  that  passes, 
One  the  Appeaseless  e'er  will  squeeze 
Back  into  Lethe's  flood  -  whose  lasting 
Is  eternities. 


in 


"False!"  cry  you,  "and  an  unbeseeming 

Blasphemy!"  -Well,  look  around. 
Is  it  not  only  in  blaspheming 
Truth  is  ever  to  be  found? 
Whether  it  be,  one  thing  I  ask  you, 

Lovers  and  poets,  tell,  I  pray, 
Was  there  ever  a  love-oath  ended 
Ere   the   Judgment  Day? 


IV 


"O,"  you  answer,  "ill  is  in  all  things." 
But  in  an  ancient  lie  what's  good? 

Is  it  not  better  just  to  call  things 
What  they  are -not  what  we  would? 


MANY   GODS  37 

When  you  are  clinging  to  your  mistress, 

Love  has  the  face  of  Eternity. 
Cling  to  her  then,  but  know  that  Wanting 

Fools  the  best  that  be. 


"Yet  her  brows  and  her  eyes  that  murmur 

All  the  music,"  you  say,  "of  God!" 
Press  her  lips  but  a  little  firmer' — 

You  will  feel  that  they  are  —  sod. 
"But  there  is  living  soul  beyond  them, 

And  it  is  love's  till  all  things  end?" 
Children  alone  build  Paradises 

With  but  pence  to  spend. 

VI 

"Ai-ho  now!  that  is  like  the  cynic," 
Pitying  runs  your  poet-smile, 

"He  has  sat  at  the  Devil's  clinic 
With  some  dead  love  up  the  while." 


38  MANY  GODS 

Dead  or  alive  are  one  with  passions, 
Under  the  potent  knife  of  Truth 

They  will  be  seen  composed  of  craving  — 
And  a  little  ruth. 


VII 

"Then  the  world  on  a  lie  is  living?" 

Many  a  lie  has  filled  its  maw! 
"  Better  illusion  tho  than  giving 

Faith  to  a  fatal  loveless  Law?" 
There  is  a  certain  Socratean 

Saying  that  swine  of  their  ditch  are  sure; 
Yet  do  they  prove  by  their  contentment 

That  it  will  endure? 

VIII 

Clasp  her  close!    But  the  truth  is  in  you, 
Tho  you  have  rhymed  and  rammed  it  down, 

Hid  it  with  honey-words  that  win  you 

Wreaths  that  you  know  bedeck  the  clown. 


MANY  GODS  39 

Kings  they  will  call  you  and  uplifters 
Of  your  kind  ?    Lord  save  the  mark, 

That  we  are  still  for  fire  dependent 
On  so  false  a  spark. 


IX 

And  so  fond!  for  you  hold  immortal 

What  has  been  born  a  day  or  two! 
"But  it  was  destined?"     Ay,  your  portal 

Only  has  God  to  heed  —  and  you ! 
He  with  his  thrice  three  million  thirsting 

Worlds  in  the  throes  of  death  and  life 
Surely  has  time  to  spare  for  choosing 

Your  behooven  wife! 


By  my  faith,  there  is  not  a  creature 
Mad  as  a  poet,  pants  the  breeze! 

Give  him  a  mistress  and  he'll  preach  her 
As  creation's  Masterpiece. 


40  MANY  GODS 

Let  him  but  lean  for  half  an  hour 
Over  her  lips  and  he  will  swear 

That  he  would  dive  thro  death  unfathomed 
To  regain  her  there. 

XI 

And  believe  that  his  oath  is  able! 

That  there  is  not  in  all  the  sea 
Water  enough  to  quench  the  fable 

Of  his  soul's  intensity. 
Yet  there  was  never  a  rose  that  blossomed 

And  endured  beyond  its  day. 
There  was  never  a  fire  enkindled 

But  the  great  Cold  had  its  way. 

XII 

"Pessimist,"  is  your  mortal  answer, 
"Wait  till  the  love- wind  pierces  you ! " 

Wait?    I  have  been  the  veriest  dancer 
To  it,  and,  dupe  still,  would  do 


MANY  GODS  41 

Truth  to  the  death  —  shall  I  confess  it?  — 
For  but  a  moment  on  one  breast. 

Wherefore  I  add  —  and  Adam  bless  it!  — 
Who  loves  once  is  like  the  rest. 


IN  A  TROPICAL  GARDEN 

(Peradeniya,  Ceylon) 

I 

The  sun  moves  here  as  a  master-mage  of  nature  all 

day  long, 
With  fingers  of  heat  and  light  that  touch  to  a 

mystical  growth  all  things. 
The  spell  of  him  puts  pale  Time  to  sleep,  as  an  opiate 

strange  and  strong, 

And  a  waft  of  his  wand,  the  wind,  enchantment 
brings. 

II 

The  python  roots  of  the  rubber-tree  where  the  cobra 

slips  in  peace 
Are  wonders  that  he  has  waved  from  the  earth  as 

a  presage  of  his  power. 
42 


MANY  GODS  43 

And  the  giant  stems  of  the  bamboo-grass,  the  pool 

astounded,  sees, 
Are  a  marvel  to  keep  it  still  hour  after  hour. 


in 

The  long  lianas  that  reach  in  dreamy  rout  from  tree 

to  tree 
Are  dazed  with  the  sense  of  sap  that  he  calls  to 

the  tangle  of  their  sprays. 
The  scarlet-hearted  hibiscus  stands  entranced  and 

the  torrid  bee 
Is  husht  upon  its  rim,  as  in  amaze 

IV 

And  there  the  palms,  the  talipot  with  its  lofty  blossom- 
spire, 

The  cocoanut  and  the  slim  areca  listening  await 
What   sorceries  of  his  trembling  rays  of  equatorial 

fire 
Will  next  be  laid  upon  some  lesser  mate. 


44  MANY  GODS 


The  river,  too,  that  he  winds  as  a  magic  circle  round 

the  wealth 
He  has  here  engendered,  has  the  glide  of  a  serpent 

lost  in  trance; 
And  scents  of  clove  and  cinnamon  that  sip  cool  from 

it,  in  stealth 
Pour  it  upon  the  air  like  necromance. 

VI 

And  down  where  the  rain-tree  and  the  rife  bread 
fruit  together  lean 
Over  its  flow,  and  the  flying-foxes  hanging  head 

to  earth 
Suddenly  drop  then  flap  aloft  on  large  bat-wing,  is 

seen 
More  of  his  mazing  wizardry  in  birth. 

vn 

All  day  long  it  is  so  that  his  hot  hypnotic  eye 
commands 


MANY   GODS  45 

With  steady  ray;   and  the   earth  obedient  brings 

enchantment  forth. 
All  night  long  in  the  humid  dark  the  high-voiced 

hyla-bands 
Chant  of  it  in  chill  strain  from  South  to  North. 

VIII 

A  wondrous  mage,  in  a  land  whose  dreams  are  made 

reality 
As  swift  as  clouds   are   made  when  the  young 

Monsoon  is  in  the  South. 
A  land  that  is  born  of  the  sea  and  by  it  destined  e'er 

to  be 
Beyond  all  fear  of  famishing  and  drouth. 


THE  WIND'S  WORD 

A  star  that  I  love, 

The  sea,  and  I, 
Spake  together  across  the  night. 

"Have  peace,"  said  the  star, 

"Have  power,"  said  the  sea, 
"Yea!"  I  answered,  "and  Fame's  delight!" 

The  wind  on  his  way 

To  Araby 
Paused  and  listened  and  sighed  and  said, 

"I  passed  on  the  sands 

A  Pharaoh's  tomb: 
All  these  did  he  have  —  and  he  is  dead." 


46 


THE  SHRINE  OF  SHRINES 

There  is  in  Egypt  by  the  ancient  Nile 

A  temple  of  imperishable  stone, 

Stupendous,  columned,  hieroglyphed,  and  known 

To  all  the  world  as  Faith's  supremest  shrine. 

Half  in  debris  it  stands,  a  granite  pile 

Gigantic,  stayed  midway  in  resurrection, 

An  awe,  an  inspiration,  a  dejection 

To  all  who  would  the  cryptic  past  divine. 

The  god  of  it  was  Ammon,  and  a  throng 

Of  worshippers  from  Thebes  the  royal-gated 

Forever  at  its  fervid  pylons  waited 

While  priests  poured  ever  a  prophetic  song. 

And  yet  this  Ammon,  who  gave  Egypt  laws, 

Is  not  —  and  is  forgot  —  and  never  was! 


47 


FROM  A  FELUCCA 

A  white  tomb  in  the  desert, 
An  Arab  at  his  prayers 
Beside  the  Nile's  dark  water, 
Where  the  lone  camel  fares. 
An  ibis  on  the  sunset, 
A  slow  shadouf  at  rest, 
And  in  the  caravansary 
Low  music  for  the  guest. 

Above  the  tawny  city 
A  gleam  of  minarets, 
Resounding  the  muezzin's 
Clear  call  as  the  sun  sets. 
A  mystery,  a  silence, 
A  breathing  of  strange  balm, 
A  peace  from  Allah  on  the  wind 
And  on  the  sky  his  calm. 
48 


THE  EGYPTIAN  WAKES 

I  woke  at  night  in  my  eternal  tomb 

The  desert  sands  had  hid  a  thousand  years, 

And  heard  the  Nile-crier  across  the  gloom 

Calling,  "The  flood  has  come!  beseech  the  gods!" 

I  rose  in  haste,  as  one  who  blindly  hears, 

And  sought  the  barterers  of  grain  and  wine 

Culled  for  the  praise  and  service  of  divine 

Great  Isis,  by  the  slave  who  for  her  plods. 

But  as  I  passed  along,  woe!  what  was  this, 

Strange  faces  and  strange  fashions  and  strange  fanes 

Standing  upon  the  midnight;  Oh,  the  pains 

That  swept  across  my  startled  thought's  abyss! 

I  moaned.     My  body  crumbled  into  dust. 

And  then  my  soul  fled  Here  —  where  all  souls  must. 


THE  IMAM'S  PARABLE 

Behold,  the  wind  of  the  Desert  rose, 
Khamsin,  in  a  shroud  of  sand, 

And  swept  the  Libyan  waste,  across 
To  far  Somali-land. 

His  voice  was  thick  with  the  drouth  of  death 

And  smote  the  earth  as  a  burning  breath, 

Or  as  a  curse  which  Allah  saith 
Unto  a  demon-band. 

The  caravan  from  the  oasis 

Of  palm-engirt  Kurkur 
Shuddered  and  couched  in  shaken  heaps, 

The  horror  to  endure. 
Its  mighty  Sheik,  like  a  soul  in  Hell 
Who  longs  for  the  lute  of  Israfel, 
5° 


MANY   GODS  51 

Longed  for  the  trickle  of  Keneh's  well, 
Imperishably  pure! 

Three  days  he  longed,  and  the  wind  three  days 

About  him  whirled  the  shroud. 
Then  did  a  shrill  dawn  bring  the  sun  — 

And  a  gaunt  vulture-crowd. 
A  few  bleak  bones  on  the  Desert  still 
Lie  for  the  Judgment  Day  to  thrill 
Again  into  life  —  if  Allah  will: 

Let  not  your  heart  be  proud. 


SONGS  OF  A  SEA-FARER 


Many  are  on  the  sea  to-day 

With  all  sails  set. 
The  tide  rolls  in  a  restive  gray, 

The  wind  blows  wet. 
The  gull  is  weary  of  his  wings, 
And  I  am  weary  of  all  things. 

Heavy  upon  me  longing  lies, 

My  sad  eyes  gaze 
Across  the  leagues  that  sink  and  rise 

And  sink  always. 
My  life  has  sunk  and  risen  so, 
I'd  have  it  cease  awhile  to  flow. 


MANY  GODS 


All  the  winds  of  the  sea  weary, 

All  the  waves  of  the  sea  rest, 
All  the  wants  of  my  heart  settle 

Softly  now  in  my  breast. 
All  the  stars  that  in  heaven  anchor, 

Golden  buoys  of  Elysian  light, 
Send  me  across  the  gulf  promise 

That  I  am  faring  right. 

So  while  clouds  that  are  left  lonely 

At  the  gates  of  the  far  West 
Wait,  so  still,  for  the  moon's  stiller 

Stealing  from  her  nest, 
I  am  held  by  a  low  vesper 

Haunting  afar  the  vague  twilight, 
Then  with  my  soul  at  peace  whisper 

Hallowedly  good-night. 


A  SONG  OF  THE  SECTS 

(In  a  Jerusalem  tavern) 

A  Latin  and  Greek,  praise  God,  are  we,  Armenian 

and  Copt, 
And  we're  all  drunk  as  drunk  can  be,  for  we've 

together  sopped. 
Not  one  of  us  but  spits  at  the  creed  the  others  mouth 

and  purr, 
But   we   all   believe,  we   all   believe,  in    the   Holy 

Sepulchre! 

The  Armenian  sings 

The  Copt  comes  out  of  Egypt-land  and  with  a  brag 
gart  face 

He'll  tell  you  that  his  fathers  piled  the  Pyramids  in 
place. 

54 


MANY  GODS  55 

In   his   Monophysite   Christ   we  set  no  faith,   the 

blasphemer! 
But  we   all  believe,   we   all  believe,   in  the  Holy 

Sepulchre! 

The  Latin  sings 

The  Greek  will  curse  you  if  you  call  his  Ikons  images, 
And  damns  your  soul  to  Hell  —  no  purgatory,  if 

you  please! 

About  Procession  of  the  Ghost  he's  prickly  as  a  burr, 
But  he  believes,   as  we   all  believe,   in  the  Holy 

Sepulchre! 

The  Copt  sings 
Of   heretics   God   leaves   unburnt,   Armenians   are 

worst, 
They  will  not  celebrate  the  Day,  that  was  for  Christ 

the  first. 
No  wine  with  water  mixed  for  them,  as  well  mix 

heathen  myrrh  — 
Or   not   believe,    as   we    all   believe,   in  the  Holy 

Sepulchre! 


56  MANY  GODS 

The  Greek  sings 

The  Latin  swears  his  Roman  Pope  is  judge  infallible. 
Wherefore  you  may  be  very  sure  the  Devil  from  his 

skull 
Will  drink  a  toast  unto  all  liars,  who  such  a  lie 

aver  — 
Tho  they  believe,  as  we  all  believe,  in  the  Holy 

Sepulchre! 

The  Four  again 

A  Latin  and  Greek,  praise  God,  are  we,  Armenian 

and  Copt, 
And  we're  all  drunk  as  drunk  can  be,  for  we've 

together  sopped. 
Not  one  of  us  but  hankers  to  hang  all  Jews  on  a 

Juniper, 
For   we   all  believe,   we   all    believe,   in   the   Holy 

Sepulchre! 


THE  CITY 

Soft  and  fair  by  the  Desert's  edge, 

And  on  the  dim  blue  edge  of  the  sea, 
Where  white  gulls  wing  all  day  and  fledge 
Their  young  on  the  high  cliff's  sandy  ledge, 
There  is  a  city  I  have  beheld, 
Sometime  or  where,  by  day  or  dream, 
I  know  not  which,  for  it  seems  enspelled 
As  I  am  by  its  memory. 

Pale  minarets  of  the  Prophet  pierce 
Above  it  into  the  white  of  the  skies, 

And  sails  enchanted  a  thousand  years 

Flit  at  its  feet  while  fancy  steers. 

No  face  of  all  its  faces  to  me 

Is  known  —  no  passion  of  it  or  pain. 

It  is  but  a  city  by  the  sea, 

Enshrined  forever  beyond  my  eyes! 
57 


VIA  AMOROSA 
(To  A.  H.  R.) 

When  we  two  walk,  my  love,  on  the  path 

The  moon  makes  over  the  sea, 
To  the  end  of  the  world  where  sorrow  hath 

An  end  that  is  ecstasy, 
Should  we  not  think  of  the  other  road 

Of  wearying  dust  and  stone 
Our  feet  would  fare  did  each  but  care 

To  follow  the  way  alone  ? 

When  we  two  slip  at  night  to  the  skies 
And  find  one  star  that  we  keep 

As  a  trysting-place  to  which  our  eyes 
May  lead  our  souls  ere  sleep, 

Should  we  not  pause  for  a  little  space 
And  think  how  many  must  sigh 
58 


MANY  GODS  59 

Because  they  gaze  over  starry  ways 
With  no  heart-comrade  by? 

When  we  two  then  lie  down  to  our  dreams 

That  deepen  still  the  delight 
Of  our  wandering  where  stars  and  streams 

Stray  in  immortal  light, 
Should  we  not  grieve  with  the  myriads 

From  East  of  earth  to  West 
Who  lay  them  down  at  night  but  to  drown 

The  longing  for  some  loved  breast? 

Ah,  yes,  for  life  has  a  thousand  gifts, 

But  love  it  is  gives  life. 
Who  walks  thro  his  world  alone  e'er  lifts 

A  soul  that  is  sorrow-rife. 
But  they  to  whom  it  is  given  to  tread 

The  moon-path  and  not  sink 
Can  ever  say  the  unhappiest  way 

Earth  has  is  fair  to  the  brink. 


DUSK  AT  HIROSHIMA 

Softly  the  bamboo  bends 

As  the  sun  sinks  down  unglowing, 

Softer  the  willow  ends 

A  sigh  to  the  dusk  around. 

Quickly  the  brief  bat  wends 

His  flittering  way,  thro  flowing 

Fields  of  the  autumn  air, 

That  are  husht  of  the  city's  sound. 

Temple  and  thatch  and  stream 
Are  forgetting  the  light  that  lingers, 
Mountain  and  mist  in  dream 
Already  are  lost,  afar. 
Faintingly  comes  the  beam 
Of  the  moon — then  viewless  fingers 
Tinkle  a  samisen, 

And  astir  on  the  East  is  a  star. 
60 


THE  WANDERER 

When   moonlight   on   the   face 

Of  the  great  Buddha  falls 
As  he  sits  in  Nirvana 

On  the  shores  of  Kamakura, 
When  the  pines  about  him  place 

Soft  shadows  at  his  feet 
Like  offerings  of  penitence  and  tears, 
I  hear  in  the  grace 

Of  the  wind's  low  susurra 
A  voice  that  calls  me  still 

To  my  home  within  the  West, 
But  I've  lingered  overlong 

In  the  East's  strange  arcana 
And  no  more  is  there  desire  within  my  breast. 

I  left  it  when  a  boy, 

That  far  home  and,  alas, 
61 


62  MANY  GODS 

'Twas  so  fair  that  my  dreaming 

Earth  had  fairer  was  a  madness. 
I  left  it  for  the  joy 

Of  wandering  the  world, 
And  heathen-hearted  lands  have  I  beheld! 
But  when  at  last  cloy 

Of  delight  brought  sadness 
Like  lotus  to  my  veins, 

And  f orgetf ulness  seemed  fate, 
I  had  fared  unto  this  shrine 

And  the  moon  as  now  was  beaming, 
And  here  have  I  awaited  —  and  await. 


But  not  for  any  gift 
Of  its  god,  or  any  grace 

That  in  living  or  in  dying 

Men  in  text  or  sutra  sigh  for. 

And  not  for  any  shrift 

Nirvana  has,  or  skies 
Where  Paradise  imperishably  smiles. 


MANY  GODS  63 

But  only  for  the  sift 

Of  the  wind,  that  seems  to  die  for 
My  soul's  enduring  peace 

In  the  dwelling  of  the  Tomb. 
And  only  for  the  drift 

Of  the  moon  that  comes  denying 
Eternity  to  everything  but  Doom. 


IN  A  SHINTO  TEMPLE  GARDEN 

Under  the  torii,  robed  in  green, 
The  old  priest  creeps  to  the  shrine. 

Over  the  bridge  the  still  stork  stands, 
The  crow  caws  not  in  the  pine. 

Far  in  the  distance  bugles  blow, 
War's  bloody  memory  wakes. 

The  priest  prays  on  —  for  his  sons  that 

are  dead, 
And  the  heart  within  him  breaks. 


64 


FAR  FUJIYAMA 

Against  the  phantom  gold  of  failing  skies 
I  see  the  ghost  of  Fujiyama  rise 
And  think  of  the  innumerable  eyes 

That  have  beheld  its  vision  sunset-crowned. 
The  peasant  in  his  field  of  rice  or  tea, 
The  prince  in  gardens  dreaming  by  the  sea, 
The  priest  to  whom  the  semi  in  the  tree 

Was  but  some  shrilling  soul's  incarnate  sound. 

And  as  I  think  upon  them,  lo,  the  trance 
Of  backward  time  and  distant  circumstance, 
Of  Karma's  all-remembering  necromance, 

Lies  suddenly  before  my  boundless  sight. 
It  is  as  if,  a  moment,  Buddhahood 
Were  given  to  me;  as  if  understood 
At  last  were  vague  Nirvana's  vaguer  good; 

As  if  time  were  dissolved  in  living  light. 
65 


ON  MIYAJIMA  MOUNTAIN 
(To  A.  H.  R.) 

Out  on  the  sea  the  sampans  ride 

And  the  mountains  brim  with  mist  and  sun. 
O  we  are  in  Japan  again 

And  the  spell  is  about  us  spun! 
The  spell  of  the  old  enchanting  East, 
Of  Buddha  and  many  a  blissful  priest, 
The  spell  that  has  never,  never  ceased 
To  haunt  us! 

Glad  we  behold  the  temple-tops 
And  the  lanterns  in  religious  row 

Standing,  like  acolytes  of  stone, 
Where  the  pine  and  camphor  grow. 

And  o'er  them  the  old  pagoda  prays 
66 


MANY  GODS  67 

Blessing  upon  their  dreaming  days, 
And  upon  the  eightfold  sacred  ways 
From  Sorrow! 


Ah,  and  the  torii  too  is  there 

Where  the  tranced  sea  enters  to  his  shrine 
Daily,  with  tidal  mystery 

And  majesty  divine. 
He  enters  now,  as  the  nuptial  sea 
Of  love  first  entered  our  hearts,  to  be 
Lord  of  their  tides  eternally, 
And  Master! 


OLD  AGE 

I  have  heard  the  wild  geese, 

I  have  seen  the  leaves  fall, 
There  was  frost  last  night 

On  the  garden  wall. 
It  is  gone  to-day 

And  I  hear  the  wind  call. 

The  wind?    .    .    .    that  is  all 

If  the  swallow  will  light 
When  evening  is  near; 

If  the  crane  will  not  scream 
Like  a  soul  in  fear; 

I  will  think  no  more 
Of  the  dying  year, 

And  the  wind,  its  seer. 
68 


ON  THE  YANG-TSE-KIANG 

Down  the  Yang-tse  bat-wing  junk 
And  tatterdemalion  sampan  glide, 
Sails  of  brown  and  black  and  yellow  swinging. 
Down  the  Yang-tse  bat-wing  junks 
Fish-eyed  and  gaudy  take  the  tide, 
Forth  to  the  sea  in  sloth  they  ride, 
The  coolies  singing. 

Off  in  the  field  the  peasant  toils 
And  along  the  canal  the  low  tows  slip, 
Fruit  of  the  red  persimmon  piled  upon  them. 
Off  in  the  field  the  peasant  toils  — 
With  lip  and  brow  the  dull  years  strip 
Bare  of  the  dreams  of  life,  whose  grip 

Has  grimly  drawn  them. 
69 


70  MANY  GODS 

High  on  the  hill  the  yamen  rests 
And  the  temple  beside  it  sleeps  in  sun, 
Far  in  the  distance  faints  the  city  dreary. 
High  on  the  hill  the  yamen  rests, 
And  dun  dead  shadows  o'er  it  run: 
This  is  the  land  where  Time  begun 
And  now  grows  weary. 


THE  SEA-ARMIES 

The  wild  sea-armies  led  by  the  wind 

Are  following  in  our  wake, 
White-crested  shouting  millions  moving  on. 
They  have  broken  their  camp  of  Calm  and  o'er 

The  world  rebellion  make, 
With  banner  of  cloud  and  mist  above  them  drawn. 

They  have  heard  the  call  of  infinite  Death, 

The  ordering  of  his  word, 
"Arise,  go  forth  and  conquer  where  ye  can; 
For  that  is  the  only  law  ye  know, 
Its  mandate  men  have  heard, 
Let  them  beware  when  they  your  path  would  span. 

"Let  them  beware,  for  I  am  lord 
Of  all  that  on  earth  has  name, 


72  MANY  GODS 

And  unto  you  is  given  most  my  might. 
Ride  on,  ye  have  many  a  ship  to  rend, 

And  many  a  mast  to  maim, 
And  many  a  land  to  lash  and  soul  to  fright." 

So  on  they  ride,  a  ravaging  horde, 

From  shore  to  shuddering  shore, 
Beyond  us  in  the  bleak  star-buried  dawn; 
Nor  know  that  when  they  have  camped  again 

And  sleep,  Life  will  restore 
Unto  her  world  the  hope  they  have  withdrawn. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  IN  EXILE 

(Mandalay) 

The  palms  along  the  old  fort  wall  are  paling, 

The  mountains  in  the  evening  light  are  red, 
The  moon  has  dropped  into  the  moat  from  heaven, 

A  spell  barbaric  over  all  is  spread. 
But  what  is  that  to  him,  a  stranger  lonely, 

In  a  land  strange  to  all  his  faith  and  dim  ? 
He  cares  not  for  old  splendours,  he  would  only 

Hear  on  the  air  a  simple  Sabbath  hymn. 

The  paddy-birds  their  snowy  flight  are  taking 
From  the  tall  tamarind  unto  their  nest, 

The  bullock-carts  along  the  road  are  creaking, 
The  bugles  o'er  the  wall  are  sounding  rest. 
73 


74  MANY  GODS 

On  a  calm  jetty  looking  off  to  Mecca 
Sons  of  Mahomet  watch  the  low  day's  rim. 

He  too  is  waiting  for  it  —  with  an  echo 
Upon  his  lips  of  a  believer's  hymn. 

The  red  gate-towers  rise  against  the  twilight, 

The  palace  of  the  heathen  king  is  hid, 
The  white  bridge  bent  across  the  moat  beside  it 

Seems  now  of  all  imholinesses  rid. 
He  wishes  it  were  so  with  all  this  city 

Whose  Buddha-built  pagodas  skyward  swim; 
But  he  can  only  gaze  on  them  and  pity  — 

And  sing  within  his  heart  a  Christian  hymn. 


THE  PARSEE  WOMAN 
(At  Bombay) 

Cast  me  out  from  among  you, 

I  will  not  see  my  child 
Laid  aloft  where  the  vultures 

May  clamour  for  him,  wild! 
The  earth  you  say  is  holy, 

Not  to  be  soiled  by  death, 
And  a  Parsee  still  should  hold  divine 

What  Zoroaster  saith. 

Ay,  and  so  I  will  hold  it, 
But  see  his  pale  sweet  face, 

As  pure  as  the  palest  flower 
Left  dead  in  Spring's  embrace. 

The  sun  we  worship  daily 
Shrined  it  for  seven  years, 
75 


76  MANY  GODS 

Then  shall  it  go  to  cruel  beaks, 
There  where  the  sea- wind  veers? 


No,  no,  no!  tho  you  send  me 

A  beggar  from  your  door, 
You,  my  lord,  whom  I  honour, 

And  you,  his  sisters  four, 
To  whom  there  have  come  no  children 

To  make  your  bosoms  feel 
How  even  a  thought  so  full  of  throe 

Can  make  my  sick  brain  reel. 

Ah,  you  are  deaf?  you  scorn  me 

And  loathe,  as  a  thing  denied? 
My  lord,  I  am  but  a  woman 

Who  longs  to  see  her  child 
Laid  in  a  tomb,  entreasured 

Under  the  shrouding  sod. 
O  would  I  had  never  given  birth, 

Or  that  earth  had  no  God! 


SHAH  JEHAN  TO  MUMTAZ  MAHAL 

I  see  as  in  a  pale  mirage 

The  palm  that  o'er  you  sways, 
The  waters  of  the  Jumna  wan  are  beating. 

One  pearl-cloud,  like  a  far-off  Taj, 

A  dome  of  grief  betrays  — 
Its  beauty  as  was  yours  will  be  too  fleeting! 

The  world  is  wider  than  I  knew 

Now  that  your  face  is  gone! 
While  you  were  here  no  destiny  seemed  boundless. 

So  I  am  lost  and  find  no  clue 

To  any  dusk  or  dawn! 
Life  has  become  a  quest  decayed  and  groundless. 

Come  back!  come  back    or  let  me  find 
The  jungle  leads  at  last 
77 


78  MANY   GODS 

Unto  your  lips  and  bosom  recreated! 
O  somewhere  I  again  must  wind 
My  arms  about  you,  cast 

Into  one  word  my  love  all  unabated1 


PRINCESS  JEHANARA 

Where  the  road  leads  from  Delhi  to  the  South, 

And  dingy  camel-trains  creep  in  the  dust 

Past  ruin-heaps  of  old  Firozabad 

And  Indropat  unpitied  of  the  drouth; 

By  a  lone  tree,  above  a  Pool  whose  sad 

Prayer-water  all  the  turban-people  trust, 

Is  a  heat-hidden  tomb,  and  on  it  just 

A  few  faint  blades  of  bent  and  grieving  grass. 

"  Jehanara's  it  is,"  with  ready  mouth 

A  Moslem  tells  the  stranger,  "once  she  said, 

'  The  covering  of  the  poor  is  only  grass, 

Let  it  be  mine  alone  when  I  am  dead.*  " 

And  who  has  stood  there,  where  about  her  Rest 

Rise  high  Imperial  tombs,  knows  hers  is  best. 


79 


A  SINGHALESE  LOVE  LAMENT 

As  the  cocoanut-palm 

That  pines,  my  love, 
Away  from  the  sound 

Of  the  planter's  voice, 
Am  I,  for  I  hear 

No  more  resound 
Your  song  by  the  pearl-strewn  sea! 
The  sun  may  come 

And  the  moon  wax  round, 
And  in  its  beam 

My  mates  may  rejoice, 
But  I  feast  not 

And  my  heart  is  dumb, 

As  I  long,  O  long,  for  thee! 
80 


MANY  GODS  81 

In  the  jungle-deeps, 

Where  the  cobra  creeps, 
The  leopard  lies 

In  wait  for  me. 
But  O,  my  love, 

When  the  daylight  dies 
There  is  more  to  my  dread  than  he! 
Harsh  lonely  tears 

That  assail  my  eyes 
Are  worse  to  bear, 

For  the  misery 
That  makes  them  well 

Is  the  long,  long  years 
That  I  moan  away  from  thee! 

O  again,  again, 

In  my  katamaran 
A-keel  would  I  push 

To  your  palmy  door! 
Again  would  I  hear 

The  heave  and  hush 


82  MANY  GODS 

Of  your  song  by  the  plantain-tree. 
But  far  away 

Do  I  toil  and  crush 
The  hopes  that  arise 

At  my  sick  heart's  core. 
For  never  near 

Does  it  come,  the  day 
That  draws  me  again  to  thee! 


ON  THE  ARABIAN  GULF 

From  a  far  minaret  of  faithful  cloud 
A  wraith-muezzin  of  the  sunset  cried 
Over  the  sea  that  swung  with  sultan  pride, 
"Allah  is  Beauty,  there  is  none  beside! 
Allah  is  Beauty,  not  to  be  denied 
By  Death  or  any  Infidel  dark-browed!" 

And  every  wave  that  worshipped,  every  one 
Under  the  mosque  of  heaven  arching  high, 
Lifted  a  white  crest  with  assenting  sigh 
And  answered,  "Let  all  gods  but  Allah  die, 
Yea,  let  all  gods!  until  the  world  shall  cry, 
Beauty  alone  is  left  under  the  sun! " 


THE  RAMESSID 

Upon  an  image  of  immortal  stone, 
Seated  and  vast,  the  moon  of  Luxor  falls, 
Lending  to  it  a  stillness  that  appals, 
A  mystery  Osirian  and  strange. 
The  hands  outplaced  upon  the  knees  in  lone 
And  placid  majesty  reveal  the  power 
Of  Egypt  in  her  most  triumphal  hour, 
The  calm  of  tyranny  that  cannot  change. 
It  is  of  that  Great  king,  who  heard  the  cries 
Of  millions  toil  to  lift  him  to  the  skies, 
Who  saw  them  perish  at  their  task  like  flies, 
Yet  let  no  eye  of  pity  o'er  them  range. 
What  rue,  then,  if  his  desecrated  face 
Rots  now  at  Cairo  in  a  mummy  case? 


IMMORTAL  FOES 

At  Bedrashein  between  the  pyramids 

I  saw  the  winged  sun  fold  up  his  pinions 

And  sink  into  the  nether  world's  dominions 

Where  Set  sent  ill  on  the  Egyptian  dead. 

I  saw  the  ancient  Desert,  that  outbids 

The  Nile  for  the  date-lands  between  them  spread, 

Fling  over  Memphis  that  is  vanished, 

Another  shroud  of  sand,  then  bid  his  minions, 

The  winds,  lie  down  upon  their  boundless  bed. 


I  saw  where  temples  vowed  to  Serapis 
And  granite  splendours  men  name  Pharaonic 
Are  kept  by  Time  in  silence  and  sardonic 
Concealment  —  mummied  in  deep  mystic  tombs. 

85 


86  MANY  GODS 

And  when  the  stars  came  out  in  quiet  bliss, 

I  heard  Eternity  with  all  its  dooms, 

Past  and  to  come,  sound  softly  the  mnemonic 

Of  Death  who  waits  all  worlds  that  JJf e  enwombs. 


THE  CONSCRIPT 

The  camel  at  the  old  sakiyeh 

Toils  around  and  round. 
Aweary  is  he  of  the  Nile 

And  of  the  wailing  sound 
Of  the  slow  wheel  he  turns  all  day 
To  lift  the  water  on  its  way 
Over  the  fields  of  Ahmed  Bey, 

That  with  green  grain  abound. 

Aweary  is  he,  too,  of  fellaheen 

Who  compel  him  on, 
With  thick-voiced  chanting  till  the  day 

Over  the  West  has  gone. 
For  the  bold  Desert  was  he  made, 
The  Bedouin,  his  lord,  to  aid, 
87 


MANY   GODS 

Not  for  this  peasant  wheel  of  trade 
That  ever  must  be  drawn. 

But  on  he  toils  while  dahabiyeh 

And  dark  felucca  glide 
Below  him  on  the  glassy  flow 

Of  the  gray  river's  tide. 
Then  when  the  night  has  come  lies  down, 
In  sleep  the  servile  day  to  drown  — 
Like  all  whom  Life  turns  with  a  frown 

From  their  true  fate  aside. 


NAVIS  IGNOTA 

Lord,  what  ship  goes  forth  to-day  ? 

I  see  her  setting  West. 
Shall  she  have  thy  winds  aright, 
Stars  to  guide  her  with  their  light, 
Shall  she  sweep  the  seas  to  sight 

Of  land  and  harbour-rest? 

Awful  is  thy  ocean-wrath, 

And  none  can  chart  thy  shoals, 
When  storm  unassuaging  hath 
Blotted  sun  and  planet-path. 
Shall  she,  Lord,  escape  the  scath 

And  live,  with  all  her  souls? 

For  it  is  a  beauteous  thing 

That  ships  should  sail  the  sea. 
89 


90  MANY  GODS 

Splendid  is  their  plunge  and  swing 
Into  waves  that  foam  and  fling 
Maelstroms  at  their  bows  to  bring 
Them  down  to  destiny. 

And  she,  too,  courageous  rides 

Away  into  the  gloom. 
Now  her  lights  are  lost  in  tides 
Of  the  windy  spray  that  glides 
Thro  the  darkness,  Lord,  abides 

Thy  Dove  with  her  —  or  Doom? 

I  shall  know  perhaps  some  day, 

Or,  knowing  not,  recall 
How  my  heart  was  fain  to  pray 
For  a  ship  that  bravely  lay 
To  her  task:  O  Lord,  so  may 
Each  vessel  of  us  all! 


THE  CROSS  OF  THE  SEPULCHRE 

Within  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  breast-high, 
There  is  a  cross  uncounted  lips  have  kissed, 
Millions  the  world  to  dust  has  long  dismissed, 
Millions  that  now  hope  of  it  but  to  die. 
Pilgrims,  I  saw,  from  out  far  fervid  lands 
Of  superstition,  North  and  West  and  South, 
Bend  to  it  each  a  trembling,  reverent  mouth, 
Then  kneel  where  Christ  was  said  to  loose 

Death's  bands. 

And  then  I  wondered  if  He  who  believed 
In  the  One  God  were  wounded  sore  by  this, 
Whether  He  shrinks  at  each  ecstatic  kiss, 
Or  knowing  how  humanity  is  grieved, 
Knows  too  that  it  is  better  to  give  Hope 
Than  Truth,  if  only  one  is  in  man's  scope. 
91 


THE  NUN 

A  lone  palm  leans  in  the  moonlight 

Over  a  convent  wall. 
The  sea  below  is  waking  and  breaking 

With  quiet  heave  and  fall. 
A  young  nun  sits  at  the  window; 

For  Heaven  she  is  too  fair; 
Yet  even  the  Dove  of  God  might  nest 

In  her  bosom  beating  there. 

A  lone  ship  sails  from  the  harbour: 

Whom  does  it  bear  away? 
Her  lover  who  sin-hearted  has  parted 

And  left  her  but  to  pray? 
She  has  no  lover,  nor  ever 

Has  heard  afar  love's  sigh. 
92 


MANY   GODS  93 

Only  the  convent's  vesper  vow 
Has  ever  dimmed  her  eye. 

For  naught  knows  she  of  her  beauty, 

More  than  the  palm  of  its  peace; 
And  who  beyond  Christ's  portal  to  mortal 

Desires  would  bend  her  knees  ? 
The  ways  of  the  World  have  flowers, 

And  any  who  will  pluck  those; 
But  let  there  ever  be  a  place 

Where  none  may  pluck  God's  rose. 


ALPINE  CHANT 

I'm  tramping  thro  the  mountains, 
They  are  rising  white  around  me, 
Snow  peaks  like  patriarchs 

That  Winter  has  enthroned. 
I'm  tramping  up  the  valleys 
Where  the  cataracts  sound  me 
Thunders  they  have  shrilly 

From  eternity  intoned. 

I'm  tramping  thro  the  mountains, 
With  the  clouds  for  my  companions, 
Soft  clouds  that  float  and  cling 

From  crag  to  cloven  crag. 
I'm  passing  by  the  chalets 
That  o'erhang  the  high  canons, 
94 


MANY  GODS  95 

Passing  where  the  shepherds 
And  the  flocks  they  pipe  to  lag. 

I'm  tramping  thro  the  mountains 
Where  the  pines  in  proud  procession 
Climb  like  a  hardy  host 

To  halo-heights  of  sun. 
I'm  listening  for  the  sallies 
Of  the  avalanche's  Hessian 
Hurl  of  ice  and  granite 

Into  gulfs  Avernian. 

I'm  tramping  thro  the  mountains 
And  the  wind  is  yodling  to  me 
Yearnings  of  the  glaciers 

To  flow  to  summer  lands. 
I'm  treading  up  the  valleys 
With  no  wanting  to  undo  me  — 
For  to-day  I'm  goalless 

And  the  great  God  understands! 


THE  MAN  OF  MIGHT 

No  moment  drooped  between  his  thought  and  action, 
No  morrow  died  between  his  dream  and  deed. 

Within  his  soul  there  was  no  fatal  faction 
That  could  betray  him  in  his  hour  of  need. 


96 


IN  TIME  OF  AWE 

The  fierce  sea-sunset  over  the  world 

Springs  like  a  wounded  spirit, 
The  waves  all  day  have  hissed  and  hurled 
Their  fangs  and  the  spray  has  swept  and  swirled, 
And  ships  in  the  gray  gale's  lair  have  furled 

Their  sails  —  well  may  they  fear  it! 

The  night  will  be  but  a  monstrous  seethe 

Of  terrors  elemental. 
The  clouds  will  wrap  in  a  ghastly  wreath 
Of  gloom  the  winds  that  in  them  breathe, 
And  all  that  lives  in  the  sea  beneath 

By  fear  shall  be  made  gentle; 

And  sink  down,  down  to  the  nether  deeps, 
Below  the  foam  and  fretting. 
97 


98  MANY  GODS 

Down  where  the  sullen  water  sleeps 
Alway  and  the  slow  sand  coldly  creeps 
Over  the  lone  wreck,  which  Death  keeps 
To  guard  him  'gainst  forgetting. 

And  there  in  the  ominous  vast  calm 
They'll  harbour,  like  enchanted 

Chill  shapes  he  has  strangely  conjured  from 

The  silence  of  his  masterdom; 

There  float  till  again  they  feel  the  qualm 
Of  hunger  thro  them  panted. 

And  then  once  more  far  up  will  they  spring, 
To  drift  and  sport  and  plunder, 

Shark,  eel  and  whale  and  devil-thing, 

With  tooth  to  rend  and  tail  to  sting. 

To  the  sea,  O  God,  does  horror  cling 
And  haunting  past  all  wonder. 


SUNRISE  IN  UTAH 

The  dun  sand-cliffs  that  break  the  desert's  sea 

Rose  suddenly  upon  my  sight  at  dawn, 

And  terrible  in  an  eternity 

Of  death  took  silently  the  sunrise  on. 

Purple  funereal  from  rifted  skies 

Swept  down  across  their  proud  sterility, 

Only  to  die  as  here  all  glory  dies, 

On  barrenness  I  did  not  dream  could  be. 

O  God,  for  a  bird-song!  or  opening  lips 

Of  but  one  flower  upon  the  fatal  air, 

For  but  the  voice  of  water  as  it  drips, 

Or  stir  of  leaves  the  day- wind  makes  aw  are  I 

O  God,  for  these,  for  life!  or  from  the  face 

Of  the  world  wipe  so  irreparable  a  place! 


99 


CONSOLATION 


Come  to  me,  shadows,  down  the  hill, 

Lie  softly  at  my  feet. 

The  sun  has  worked  his  will 

And  the  day  is  done. 

Come  to  me  softly  and  distil 

Your  dews  and  dreams,  that  heat 

And  hours  of  heartless  glare  have  overrun. 

II 

Come  to  me,  shadows,  down  the  hill 
And  bring  with  you  the  night, 
Fire-flies  and  the  whippoorwill 
And  ah,   the   moon  — 

100 


MANY  GODS  101 

Whose  soft  interpretings  can  still 
The  tangled  tongues  of  right 
And  wrong,  and  hope  and  fear,  that  haunt 
the  noon. 


in 

Come  to  me,  shadows,  down  the  hill 
And  let  there  follow  Sleep, 
Which  is  God's  tidal  Will 
That  overflows 
The  world  —  obliterating  ill, 
And  in  its  soothing  sweep 
Murmuring  more  of  mercy  than  man 
knows. 


WAVES 

The  evening  sails  come  home 
With  twilight  in  their  wings. 
The  harbour-light  across  the  gloam 

Springs; 
The  wind  sings. 

The  waves  begin  to  tell 

The  sea's  night-sorrow  o'er, 
Weaving  within  their  ancient  spell 

More 
Than  earth's  lore. 

The  rising  moon  wafts  strange 

Low  lures  across  the  tide, 
On  which  my  dim  thoughts  seem  to  range, 
Stride 

Upon  stride, 
ioa 


MANY  GODS  103 

Until,  with  flooding  thrill, 

They  seem  at  last  to  blend 
With  waves  that  from  the  Eternal  Will 

Wend, 
Without  end. 


VIS  ULTIMA 

There  is  no  day  but  leads  me  to 
A  peak  impossible  to  scale, 
A  task  at  which  my  hands  must  fail, 
A  sea  I  cannot  swim  or  sail. 

There  is  no  night  I  suffer  thro 
But  Destiny  rules  stern  and  pale: 

And  yet  what  I  am  meant  to  do 
I  will  do,  ere  Death  drop  his  veil- 


And  it  shall  be  no  little  thing, 
Tho  to  oblivion  it  fall, 
For  I  shall  strive  to  it  thro  all 
That  can  imperil  or  appal. 
104 


MANY  GODS  105 


So  at  each  morning's  trumpet-ring 
I  mount  again,  less  slave  and  thrall, 

And  at  the  barriers  gladly  fling 
A  fortitude  that  scorns  to  crawl. 


MEREDITH 

What  am  I  reading?    He  is  dead? 

He  the  great  interpreter 

And  seer — England's  noblest  head  ?    . 

What  am  I  reading  ?    It  is  hushed  ? 

The  deepest  voice  that  life  had  found 

To  read  a  century  profound 

With  all  time's  seethe  and  stir? 

Why,  it  is  but  a  scanty  score 

Of  days,  since,  at  his  side, 

Clasping  his  hand  with  more  than  pride, 

I  felt  that  the  immortal  tide 

Of  his  great  mind  would  long  break  o'er 

The  cold  command  of  Death. 

Still  in  my  ear  is  echoing 
106 


MANY  GODS  107 

The  surf  of  his  strong  words,  and  still 

Against  the  wild  trees  on  the  Hill 

His  cottage  sheltered  under, 

I  see  the  toss  of  his  gray  locks, 

Like  Lear's  —  for  he  had  felt  the  sting 

Of  all  too  greatly  giving 

The  kingdom  of  his  mind  to  those 

Who  for  it  held  him  mad. 

O  England,  guard  thy  living 

Like  him  from  a  like  fate! 

For  not  the  mighty  thunder 

Of  thy  proud  name  from  all  the  rocks 

Of  all  the  world  can  compensate 

A  nation  whom  no  Song  makes  glad, 

And  whom  no  Seer  makes  great. 

THE  END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
BERKELEY 


LIBRARY, 


50w-8,'26 


Many  gods 


FEb    9 


R495 


,fiWI7  1927 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


